Just Another Day
by Sewtunes
Summary: This story takes place between Seasons 4 and 5, after Sam and Jules have been cleared to have a private relationship. The events reflect what could be a normal day at work for Team One. An unknown subject walks the streets of Toronto carrying an AK47


This story is set any time between seasons 4 and 5 after Sam and Jules were cleared to be together. Raf is still on the Team. Not after any particular episode.

Disclaimer: I write for my pleasure and your enjoyment. The characters are not mine; they were created by the producers of _Flashpoint_ and apparently a half dozen other entities affiliated with the production of the TV series. They belong to those people. I just take them out and play with them occasionally. The situations and descriptions in this story belong solely to me using characters borrowed from _Flashpoint_. If you read, please review. Reviews are what keep authors writing.

* * *

"Jeesh. How come no one ever waves a gun around at the beginning of a shift? Seems like they always wait 'til it's end of shift." Sam grumbled as he dropped his bag and keys inside the front door of Jules' house. The late call had kept them overtime leaving them with very little time to relax, sleep, get up and do the job all over again the next day.

Jules entered right behind Sam, stumbling over his bag. "Gee, Sam, did you have to leave that thing in the middle of the floor?" Exhaustion had made the normally unflappable Jules grumpy.

"Sorry." Sam apologized as he used his foot to slide it closer to the wall.

"I know. You're tired. I'm tired. We're all tired. I'm too tired to even eat. I'm going straight to bed." Jules left her bag on the floor right next to Sam's and headed straight for the stairs. As she climbed up them, she briefly wondered where Sam had disappeared, but she was too tired to care what he did. As long as she could reach the bed and flop onto it, she'd be fine.

She dropped her clothes near the dresser and pulled out one of Sam's old t-shirts to use as a nightshirt. She heard footsteps on the stairs as she crawled into bed but was asleep before Sam entered the room.

"Jules, I brought something to eat. Do you want any?" His voice trailed off when he saw that she was already sound asleep, her breathing slow and even. He tiptoed back out of the room and sat at the top of the stairs to eat his snack. Then he, too, shed his clothes and climbed into bed beside her. She mumbled in her sleep at the disturbance, then moved a little closer to him until they were touching, before she relaxed back into a deep sleep again. Sam thought it had been a long day with too much overtime. They had only a few hours before they were to be back on shift first thing in the morning. It was going to be a short night. Those thoughts had barely formed before Sam joined Jules in sleep.

* * *

An annoying buzz slowly pulled Sam out of a deep dreamless sleep. It couldn't be morning already, could it? He reached over and slapped the alarm clock. As the pesky buzz stopped, Sam noticed the aroma of coffee drifting his way. I guess it is morning, he thought, and thanked the inventor of the timer for the automatic coffee maker. He could effortlessly get his caffeine jolt before they had to report back to the Barn.

He noticed the empty bed beside him, but before he had time to wonder where Jules was, she entered the room bearing two cups of coffee. "Here," she offered. "I bet you need this as much as I do." Sam sat up and nodded as he grabbed the cup out of her hands. "Thanks," he mumbled as he sipped.

"You ready to head back in?" asked Jules. "I'm not, but we better not be late or Ed'll have our heads or make us do sprints or something equally mean." She took a couple more sips of her own coffee and then headed to the dresser, mentally trying to decide what she needed to take with her, what needed replacing in her go bag, and what to wear today. Mere moments had passed before she had it all figured out and began dressing for work, while laying out a few things on the bed to take downstairs.

Sam watched her move efficiently and quickly. He enjoyed watching her go through her morning routine, especially those few seconds where he caught glimpses of her bare skin. He wished they didn't have to rush off to work so quickly. It would be fun to uncover more of her skin and explore it. As she pulled on her jeans, he finally decided that he better get up and get going, too. Jules was right. Ed would demand their heads if they were late. Even after a late shift like last night's, he still expected them all to come in early, not the normal two hours early for workout, but one hour early for sure. It didn't take either of them long to prepare and head out for another day of keeping the peace.

* * *

They had not been late for workout, so Ed had given them no grief. They even had time to shower before Greg called a meeting in the briefing room to discuss the day's schedule, beginning with the serving of a warrant on one of the local criminals, a repeat offender. Sam wondered when the felon would finally get several years in prison instead of several months. It was bothersome and frustrating to have to keep hauling him in only to have the court give him a light sentence or none at all. Situations like this were just one of the more frustrating aspects of a job that he normally loved. But it was all in a day's work. He'd be there to protect the person delivering the warrant and to guard the man being hauled in. He didn't enjoy this aspect of his job, but he understood the need for it.

The klaxons blared in the middle of the briefing, sending Team One racing out. As soon as Winnie began talking to the 911 operator, her comments had the Team encircling her desk as they listened to her side of the conversation.

"There's a man with a gun? Walking down the street? Where?" she queried quickly. "Dressed in camouflage? AK47? Really? Team One is already gearing up. They'll be right there."

Once the words _gun_ and _AK47_ were uttered, the team moved into overdrive to gear up and get out, each one wondering what they would be facing. They'd need shields, body armour and helmets to face down an AK47. Winnie continued to feed them information over their headsets as they drove downtown.

"The unis don't have ID on the man yet," Winnie stated, "but they say he's circling a statue in the square and muttering unintelligible words. Anytime anyone moves toward him, he raises the gun. So far there haven't been any shots fired, yet. He has the spectators spooked."

"So why are they watching in range of a gun?" Ed knew the public would be there probably getting in their way. "Do we have any idea how many there are?" he asked Winnie.

"No. Quite a few though," was the reply. "The unit commander has already directed the officers on scene to start moving the crowd back."

"Thanks, Winnie," Ed appreciated her skill in acting as their liaison.

"Okay, Team, consider the man to be an EDP unless we hear something different," Greg cautioned into his headset. He looked over at Ed, "How do you want to approach this?"

"Sam, find a perch. You'll be Sierra," Ed instructed. "Jules, I want you with Greg. Spike, do your magic and see if you can find out who this guy is, so we can give Greg and Jules something to work with. The rest of you will be protecting Greg and Jules. I'll coordinate with the unis on crowd control. We don't want another York Plaza incident."

When they arrived at the scene, everyone jumped out, donned their protective gear quickly and raced to their assigned places. Greg observed the man carefully trying to discern what actions might be needed from them and how best to approach him. Jules did her own study of the subject. They quickly compared first impressions, but they had no other information beyond what they could observe on scene.

Ed secured the area and had the uniforms push back the public, moving them even further away from the danger. Idiots, he thought, standing here gawking within range of an EDP with a gun. What are they thinking? Don't they know that a stray bullet could hit them? He was gratified to see that a mother with two children quickly turned her little family around and headed out of the area and out of sight, sternly pulling the reluctant boy away from the scene. At least one person has some sense, he thought, as he continued to encourage the spectators to move back out of range. "Winnie, we need more uniforms here for crowd control."

"Copy. On their way."

Greg spoke with the officers who had been first on the scene in the hopes of learning something more about the man. No new information yet. The man was still unidentified which meant they couldn't call any relatives to ask about his state of mind. The subject had apparently been rambling around downtown for some time. His progress was plotted by the locations of numerous 911 calls. Two officers were dispatched to backtrack his route and talk to anyone they encountered along the way, but information remained scarce. Most civilians just said they'd noticed the man, moved away and called it in. Smart civilians, but not helpful to the officers.

"Boss," Spike's voice broke in, "the unis have reported back. They tracked his route from over a kilometre away, but they didn't learn anything useful. Sorry. Still no ID on him."

"Thanks, Spike." Greg turned toward Jules, "I guess we have to wing this. Got any ideas?"

"Not unless he talks to us," she answered.

"So let's see if we can get him to talk," Greg concurred. "Raf, I want you and Ed in full body gear, including helmets," Greg ordered. "We don't know what this nut job might do or how he could react."

"Copy, Boss," replied Raf.

"We don't take any chances with this guy, not with that weapon in his hands," Ed agreed. The two men went to gear up and grab the shields out of the trucks.

With Raf and Ed shielding, Greg approached the man cautiously calling out to him trying to engage him in conversation. The subject ignored him and continued his pacing and babbling. The words he shouted out made no sense to anyone, nor did he respond to any attempts to communicate with him. For the time being, his gun was lowered, but he was a scary sight. Full camouflage clothing, the AK 47 and a backpack full of who knew what. That backpack had Ed worried, a lot. It could contain anything from grenades to more ammunition to a change of clothing. The latter didn't worry him, but everything else did.

After several futile attempts to engage the subject, Greg pulled back and sent Jules to try. When the subject heard the female voice, he stopped pacing for a moment and looked at her though he still did not respond to her overtures. Then he continued on with his rambling and mumbling. Fortunately he was not yet displaying any aggression toward anyone on scene. It was more like he was in his own little world, which, unfortunately, was out in a public square with too many people around.

"Spike, get a photo of this guy and send it the news media," Greg ordered. "Winnie, can you get us a phone number for tips. Maybe someone will know this guy. We've got to get some background on him."

"Yeah, Boss."

As requested, a photo of the man was sent to the news stations who broke into programming to ask the public if anyone knew him. So far, no one had phoned in with any pertinent information. Greg and Jules were still operating in the dark about how to approach him and engage him. All their efforts to communicate with him were ignored. The garbled sounds made by the subject were not those of a deaf person who had learned to talk, so they had to rule out deafness as a reason for his unresponsive demeanor. Greg had to wonder how he could tune out everything around him and ignore all their efforts to communicate. His frustration grew as the minutes moved on without success.

There was still a crowd watching the action, but the uniformed officers had managed to enlarge the perimeter to a moderately safe distance, leaving the subject pacing around the statue while Jules and Greg continued their attempts to communicate with him. Still more time passed, and no one had called in to identify him.

The sudden sound of metal hitting concrete, clanging and reverberating, startled the subject into raising his gun and aiming it in the direction of the sound. The spectators ducked and ran for cover. The plaza became one mass of moving people and confusion. Sam had a difficult time maintaining a fix on the subject. Ed's instructions were obstructed by the noise of running feet and people's screams as well as the cacophony of the metal parts still rolling around. The subject swung his gun in several directions, finally aiming it toward Greg and Jules who had once again begun to make their way toward him. He fired one quick shot which chipped the pavement near Jules and then he swung the gun toward Greg. Greg immediately called Scorpio, and the subject fell without anyone having learned who he was or what had made him so agitated. To the two profilers on scene, it was a baffling and frustrating experience. They had not been able to get a handle on the subject's mood or motivation. Greg knew the interviews with SIU would not be easy, mainly because of the lack of knowledge about the situation. Everyone would want to second guess the Team's actions. Unfortunately when a subject fires toward an officer, there's no alternative. Greg hated feeling helpless, and he knew Jules would feel even worse. Both of them liked to have options for influencing a more positive outcome to a situation.

Sam climbed down from his perch and waited for SIU to escort him back to headquarters for debriefing. He had remained vigilant in watching Jules as she scrambled out of the way of the shot. The chip of pavement hitting her leg had not gone unnoticed by him. Once the confusion began to resolve, she turned his way and caught his eye. With a slight nod of her head, she acknowledged that she was okay. His facial expression changed ever so slightly acknowledging her non-verbal message. During the months they had been secretly dating, they had developed a private non-verbal means of communication while at work. Even though their relationship was no longer a secret, they continued to use their silent rapport at work. It pained Sam to see Jules in danger on the job, but he couldn't afford to let anyone know how worried he often was. Their job was inherently dangerous. He used the moments he had to wait for SIU to clear his head, review the events and prepare himself for the grilling to come.

As the rest of the Team was clearing the plaza and making room for the EMTs to attend to the body, Greg and Sam were escorted back to the station by SIU. A short time later the rest of the Team finished their part in clearing the scene, loaded up their trucks and followed. Other officers remained on scene to do the final clearing up after the EMTs had removed the body. No one else had been injured, but the need for a kill shot always subdued the Team members. This incident had been a particularly frustrating one, mainly due to lack of useful information during the stand-off.

Debrief was short after Greg and Sam had returned from SIU. With so little information to process, there was no way to discuss many pros and cons of the critical incident. Once the subject fired off a shot, there was no other course of action, and everyone on the Team knew it. With so many unknowns, the Team members were uncomfortable with the outcome. As Greg had once said, just because you do right doesn't mean you get to feel right. That about summed it up. No one felt right about the kill shot.

Hours later, family members identified the subject as a veteran with PTSD. They had no clue as to why he'd been walking around the city armed and babbling. They didn't even realize he owned a gun like that, but its case had been found under his bed. There were no notes or rambling dissertations on his computer about anything that would lead to roaming the city with a gun. He had no apparent victims in mind, nor was it clear that he ever intended to use the gun. The fact that the Team had spent 95 minutes trying to engage him in conversation illustrated that the officers had tried everything they could to get through to the man. His only response had been the gibberish and then the firing of his weapon when startled.

After that call, serving a warrant and bringing in a felon was nothing. The second part of their day went smoothly. They actually got off shift at the normal time even though it had been a long and busy day with two incidents.

In the parking lot away from the station and most prying eyes, Sam pulled Jules close to him, the first chance he'd had to touch base with her. His kiss was hot, hungry, desperate, seeking reassurance that Jules really was safe and okay. After breathless moments, he apologized, "I just couldn't wait. Seeing that bullet land so close to you nearly did me in."

"It's okay, Sam, I understand." Jules grabbed his face and brought it back down to hers for another kiss. She rested her head against his chest while he held her. "I was spooked, too. He'd been so unthreatening, crazy but not dangerous, until that moment, and then it all fell apart. He was just a crazy, mixed-up guy who didn't deserve to die."

"What spooked him anyway?"

"Apparently some workmen around the corner dropped some metal equipment. You might not have heard it from the top of that building you were on, but it sounded like an explosion down where we were. Everyone jumped, but he was super edgy. Maybe the gun went off accidentally. At least his aim was off."

"Thank God!" Sam exclaimed as he pulled her closer and tucked her into his side as they walked to their car. He reluctantly released her when they reached it. He didn't want to stop touching her, not even to let her slide inside. In seconds he was around the car and joining her. He tilted his head back and rested it against the car's seat back, eyes closed, as he processed the day's events. "Do you want to go out to eat or shall we go home and cook?"

"Let's just go home. It's been hectic, and I could use some peace and quiet. I just wish we could have gotten through to him somehow before things went crazy." She settled back into her seat, too.

"Let it go, Jules. It's done. Remember he's the one who wouldn't talk with you or Greg. You tried everything possible to engage him."

"I know. Still, it's frustrating."

"All the calls are frustrating to some extent. It's just that this time you never had a chance to connect." Sam turned the key, heard the engine start, and then put the car into reverse.

"It feels unfinished." Jules slumped back against the seat back and sighed in frustration.

"Yes, it never got started. That's what's worrying you. I know you felt like you never had a chance to connect. You did everything you could to protect him, and you know you respected him. Let's try to forget it for now. We can't change anything, but we can enjoy our evening and the fact that tomorrow we start shift later than today." The car exited the parking lot, and they were on their way to Jules' house.

Sam stopped the car in her driveway and waited for Jules to say something. Instead, she reached for him, pulling his head down to her lips for a scorching kiss that left Sam wondering why. Usually she preferred to get her head on straight, so to speak, before she initiated any intimate contact with him. He hoped she'd managed to settle things in her mind because he certainly didn't want to stop what she'd just started.

"Come on, Jules," he murmured against her lips. "We need to take this inside or your neighbors might call the cops." He reluctantly pushed her away ever so slightly.

"We are the cops," she whispered against his lips before releasing him.

"Okay. Let's go! Race you in!" Jules grabbed her bag, slammed the car door and beat him to the door by a split second. Sam fumbled with his keys until he found the right one and slid it into the door lock. He pushed the door open and followed Jules inside the house. Both dropped their bags on the floor again and resumed kissing and holding on to each other.

Sam deepened the kiss and Jules tightened her arms around his neck, lost in the wild torrent of sensation. As they kissed and tasted for long, drugging moments, somehow they shrugged out of their coats, though she had no real awareness of it. A moment later, she could feel his hand at her waist and then the sizzling warmth of his fingers on her bare skin under her sweater.

She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life, this man with the bedroom eyes and the hard strength. It seemed like she always wanted him. She could not envision a time when she would not want him. His eyes darkened with a desire that took her breath away. The pressure of his hands on her back arched her hips closer to him. He lowered her to the sofa, his body all hard muscle over hers, and she savored the strength of him above her. "I can't get the taste of you out of my head," he murmured, his body stretched along hers. "You're there all the time, no matter what I'm doing."

She wanted him, wanted this. The hunger was like a steady wind inside her, sweeping away all her concerns from the day's incidents. His hands slid over the slope of her breasts. A smile of pure pleasure teased her lips. "This isn't getting supper prepared," she murmured against his chest.

"No, it's not," his eyes glinted with wicked promise. "Are you sure you want food?" He paused a moment, "or me?"

Her brown eyes sparkled before she replied cheekily, "I think I'd like food."

"Food?" He looked wounded. "And I'm trying so hard to distract you, and you want food?"

She succumbed to the darkening heat of his gaze. "Okay. Food can wait."

Their lips met again as their hands continued to stroke and explore. The desire that was always simmering just beneath the surface flared hotly.

Jules pulled back and whispered huskily, "Sam, let's take this upstairs. I'm too tired to do couch gymnastics while I show you how much I love you."

Sam slowly eased back, held out his hand for hers and they rose as one and silently climbed the stairs.


End file.
